No Exit
by suzjazz
Summary: Set right after the final scene in Red John's Rules. "Huis Clos," a play by Jean-Paul Sartre, usually translated as "No Exit," perfectly describes the terrible trap Jane and Lisbon are in after seeing the video. They can't tell anyone on the team about it, thereby losing their backup. Lisbon makes a plan, and Jane makes a different plan. Warning: Spoiler alert for season 6.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first Mentalist fanfic. I was going to say, "my first fanfic ever," but it's not! I was going through some stuff I wrote when I was about 15, and I discovered two fanfics about The Avengers-good ones, too, especially for a teenager! For those who are not familiar with the classic British spy TV show: it was on in the 60s, and it was my favorite show. It features Emma Peel (her partner calls her Mrs. Peel-we never get to see Mr. Peel!) who was the prototype of all the kickass female spies/police/detectives/crimesolvers: beautiful, brilliant, fearless, expert in the martial arts and marksmanship. It also features John Steed, the very picture of a proper Englishman with bowler hat and umbrella, who looks innocuous but is trained in the use of all sorts of weapons and in street fighting. They are partners, and Steed is secretly in love with Emma, but it's hard to tell how she feels about him. (Sound familiar?) The end of each episode has them toasting their success with champagne. They drive fancy cars (Steed has a Bentley, Emma a Lotus Elan) and you get the feeling that being a spy was a high-paying job! **

**So, I might post my Avengers fanfics if there is a category for the show!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Mentalist. I wish I did, because I want to run my fingers through his hair!**

**SPOILER ALERT FOR SEASON 6!**

**I was re-reading Chapter 1 and I realized that there is a too abrupt transition from the present tense to the past tense mid-chapter. I have added my usual fix (line of asterisks separating the two sections) I realize that this is not what Tolstoy or Jane Austen would have done, but this just serves to illustrate the yawning gulf between me and the masters. I wanted to experiment with changing tense and the result was not entirely successful. I hope you enjoy the story as it unfolds...**

**hmmm...the asterisks never showed up when I edited. Just imagine a line separating the two tenses beginning at "As Jane spoke..."**

**Someone complained that I practically "regurgitated the promo" in Chapter 8. So I'm including a spoiler alert. But my plan for the next scene in the story was nothing like the season premiere. I have temporarily stopped writing this story because I may include spoilers without realizing it and I always have the compulsion to change what I have written so it fits the action on the show. I want to pursue the "hitwoman" idea, though-I was inspired partly by _The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. _****For now I'm restricting myself to episode tags, because as beautifully as the new season has begun, it is seriously lacking in Jisbon, which after five seasons and in the light of events in episodes 01 and 02, should be more apparent.**

Chapter 1

Jane: How can I protect her? I'd have to be with her 24/7 and she'd never allow that. And how can I protect the future victims of Red John's wrath? I don't even know who they are and I have no way of finding out! Is it too dangerous to tell Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt? We can't hunt RJ alone. I need a plan! How did this happen? I have dragged my "family" [Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt] into this deadly vortex from which there is no escape. I have also endangered the woman I love, the only woman I have a chance of happiness with when this is all over, if it's ever over. We might both end up dead. I have to tell her now. She doesn't know. She doubts me, she's never trusted me, and for good reason. How can I make her believe that I love her more than anything or anyone in the world?

Lisbon: I've never been afraid of any killer in my entire career, but now I am afraid. I don't like to admit it, but I'm even scared to be alone in my own apartment, even with all my guns. Red John knows I love Jane. What if he comes after me? And what about the people from Jane's past that he's planning to murder? We can't possibly discover who they are and warn them. What are we going to do? I want to tell the team about this but it might put them in too much danger. What if Bertram is Red John? How am I going to act normal? Use my good poker face? This isn't poker we're playing, it's a high-stakes deadly game. And Jane…this is devastating to him. Does he love me? I still can't tell. Will he try to protect me and should I let him? I'm an officer of the law, it's my job to be in harm's way, I don't need protection…but Red John is powerful. He isn't an ordinary serial killer. He's a monster and he has minions. Jane and I can't do this alone. We are going to need every member of the team...

As Jane stares out the window, he tries to neutralize the despair in his face, and his expression becomes unreadable. His back is turned to Lisbon, who gazes at him with eyes full of her own special mix of sadness bordering on despair, worry, and love that she still can't express in words.

"Jane."

No answer.

"Jane, what are we going to do?"

"I don't know."

"We have to think of something. People are going to be murdered and as of now we have no way of preventing it. If we don't know who they are, how can we warn them or protect them?"

"My question exactly, Lisbon."

"I think we have to include the team. We can't do this without backup. It's too dangerous, and we could both end up dead with Red John still on the loose."

"We may have to include them, but not yet. There has to be a plan in place."

He turns to face her and walks toward her, away from the window. "Let's sit down and discuss this."

He gestures toward the worn mattress which serves as his bed. Lisbon sits gingerly on the mattress, which looks as though it might harbor bedbugs. Jane sits beside her, leaving two feet of personal space between them.

"I think we have to tail each one of the suspects. I'm still working on eliminating more of them. Until I do, we have to assume that all the men on the list are all equally likely to be Red John. We have to be very circumspect, very cautious, Lisbon. We have to make ourselves invisible."

"If we get the team to do surveillance…"

"I don't want to get them involved until I figure out how to keep them from getting killed, especially Van Pelt. He prefers to go after women."

Lisbon is silent for a long moment.

"And especially you, Lisbon." She hates it when he appears to read her mind.

"Jane, you know my position on this. I've told you before, I'm an officer of the law and it's my job to put myself in harm's way. You don't have to protect me."

"Ah, but I do, Lisbon. I've brought this upon you, and if you die as a result, then I'm responsible. You must allow me to protect you."

"So, what do you have in mind? Hire me a bodyguard? Handcuff yourself to me?"

"You don't have to be scornful. Do you really think I could live with knowing I'd caused your death?"

"That's not the point. You could get us both killed. You haven't been trained to pursue dangerous criminals.I can't put your life in danger-I swore to protect and serve. I should be protecting you. I'm the one who knows how to handle a weapon…"

"I'm learning how to shoot. I go to the range almost every day. I bought a Glock."

"Jane! You're carrying an unregistered gun? I should arrest you!"

"Relax, I went through all the proper channels. And I've become a pretty good shot if I do say so myself."

Lisbon opened her mouth to protest, but sighed instead.

"I've never been able to control you, Jane. I've even allowed you to co-opt me into illegal behavior."

"Because you know I'm right and that often you have to bend the law to catch the criminal."

"Can't you even try to understand it from my point of view? If I commit crimes, that makes me a hypocrite posing as an officer of the law. Unlike you, I have principles that I live by."

"And that you give up as soon as I persuade you to see reason."

"I don't give up my principles!"

"Admit it, Lisbon, sometimes the law is wrong and it actually prevents justice from being done."

Lisbon glares at him, but wearily.

"Aren't we supposed to be figuring out what we're going to do next? Are we just going sit back and wait for him to kill his next victim?"

"No, we'll figure this out. I promise I'll come up with a plan."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because I have to."

Lisbon is feeling increasingly more uncomfortable-an unaccustomed combination of fear, undermined confidence, annoyance, and the desire to cry. She never cries. She can't even remember the last time she cried. Well, she almost cried when she rescued Jane from drowning. She has always managed to to maintain her professional demeanor, to the point of stoicism. Her reticence, her privacy, the protective armor she assumed when she was twelve years old, against being hurt, against feeling helpless, against fear- this armor served her well until Patrick Jane joined the CBI. The mentalist wasn't deterred by psychological armor: he went right ahead and cut through it, somehow discovering her secrets, things she never told anyone and kept well hidden. He knows her better than she knows herself.

It's so unfair. After a decade, she still doesn't know who he is. She doesn't know if she can trust him.

She has convinced herself that she can will herself not to love him, even though she has been engulfed by his charm and good looks and dazzled by his brilliance for years. She even thinks that she can conceal her thoughts from him, and has told him that she doesn't want him inside her head. But to no avail. Still, she is able to act professional around him, even if it's merely a veneer. She knows that her detectives are too sharp not to notice nonverbal signals between her and Jane and that they drew their own conclusions years ago. But she is determined to keep up the fiction that she is not in love with Patrick Jane.

Now her armor has been removed piece by piece by this man, and she feels naked before him.

She feels the humiliation of a woman everyone knows to be in love with a man who does not love her. At least it seems that way. He sidestepped her question over a year ago after he pretended to shoot her. She distinctly heard him say the words, but then he denied remembering that he said them. And why had he said them? It wasn't as if he were really shooting her. Was she supposed to believe he meant it after carrying on with Lorelei? Did he expect her not to be hurt when he didn't contact her for six months? Maybe, just maybe, despite his remarkable powers of penetration, Jane was unable to tell if Lisbon loved him or not. She certainly never said "I love you" to him. Maybe he thought she regarded him as a brother or platonic friend.

They are playing a game in which they pretend not to love each other. And with every day that passes, the tension increases.

Lisbon abruptly gets up from the mattress and says, "I'm exhausted. I need sleep to be able to focus on this. Let's wait until tomorrow."

"Suit yourself, Lisbon," is the cold reply as he turns his back on her. And then, suddenly angry. "I might just take this on alone. You won't be able to stand up to him. I thought you were brave, but here you are, cowering, but trying to assert your authority over me with this "officer of the law" crap. And you don't trust me. Why do you assume that I never registered the gun? You think of yourself as the great upholder of the Law. And you consider me a con man and outlaw who respects no one's law but his own. I couldn't possibly be a crimefighter like you. So go. Get thee to a nunnery, Lisbon. That's where you belong anyway."

She feels like she's been slapped. Slowly she opens the heavy door of the attic and makes her way downstairs to the sanctuary of her office. It's late, probably around ten, and she would normally have been home and in bed by now, "lying awake thinking about Jane," she thinks bitterly. But she realizes that she is afraid to go home. Afraid that Red John is already there waiting for her like a tiger stalking his prey. It's foolish to think that her office is any safer than her home, but somehow knowing that Jane is in the building, awake, makes her feel safe.

She switches on the lamp in her office and sits down at her desk. The usual stack of paperwork awaits her, and she digs into it grimly, trying to forget that he has hurt her yet again. What triggered that outburst? What did she do? He really must hate me, she decides.

It helps to have work to do, but she can't shake the feelings of dread and despair that have settled upon her. She opens her file cabinet drawer and slowly takes out the bottle of tequila. She has the two glasses with which she and Bosco would toast the end of a case, back in happier times.

Bosco. Dead. Because of Red John.

She fills one of the glasses only halfway, raises the glass, and contemplates the golden liquid. She brings it to her lips and swallows some. Just like Dad, she thinks. I'm turning into someone who just gives up when there seems to be no reason for living, no solution to terrible problems that keep you awake nights. But I need a drink. If I don't have a drink or two, I won't be able to fall asleep. And I need to sleep.

She drinks one glass, then another, and this time she fills it to the brim.

She begins to slip into that pleasant oblivion which leads to sleep. She staggers unsteadily to the leather couch that Jane bought for her, still holding the tequila bottle in her right hand and the glass in her left. She doesn't even bother to take off her jacket and shoes; she just curls up into the fetal position on the couch and closes her eyes. Sadness still weighs so heavily upon her that she can't even cry, but she can't really remember why she is so profoundly hurt. Soon she falls asleep.

She is awakened by a rapping on her door. She sits bolt upright and reaches for her gun reflexively, but immediately realizes that it's Jane who's knocking.

"Go away."

"Please-I'm sorry-I was an arrogant bastard again-please forgive me, Lisbon."

"How many times have I forgiven you? Ten? Fifteen? Fifty? Excuse me if I can't remember, there's so many! Well, I'm done forgiving you. I'm done, Jane. With you. You can conceive a master plan to catch Red John, and I'm going back to honest detective work. I'm telling the team everything."

"You can't! Not yet!"

"Oh, and I'm only supposed to do it when you say so? Go to hell, Jane. Go to hell and sleep with a few more of Red John's girlfriends. Live out your pathetic revenge fantasy, but don't try to get me to join you."

Jane seizes the doorknob and rattles it.

"You're right. I am an egotistical, self-centered, controlling, insensitive bastard. I've hurt you and lied to you so many times-why should you ever trust me to protect you?"

"I don't need your protection!"

"Lisbon…Teresa…just let me in for five minutes and I promise to leave. Five minutes."

She goes to the door, unlocks it, and lets him in.

He's a mess. His eyes are bloodshot, his hair dishevelled, he has the bleary and wild-eyed look of a man who never sleeps.

He's standing there in his shirtsleeves, having taken off his jacket and vest.

"May I sit down? And will you sit next to me on the couch?"

Lisbon doesn't respond but silently sits next to him.

"I'd ask if you'd like a cup of tea, but I see you've already been getting into the hard stuff."

"Get to the point."

Jane sighs. He looks down, hanging his head like a chastised child.

"Teresa. I've lied to you a lot, and I'm not proud of it. Some of it was necessary to give you deniability or to catch a criminal using means I knew you'd disapprove of. But a lot of it was just pure cowardice. The worst lie I ever told you is the one about not remembering what I said to you that day when I pretended to kill you.

I was horrified by what I was about to do, even though I knew the bullets were blanks. How could I even pretend to kill you when I…when you're the woman I love more than anyone or anything?" He runs out of breath and has to stop. Beads of sweat are standing out on his forehead. He can't look at her, so he continues to look down. "Pure cowardice, Teresa." He holds his breath awaiting her response.

As Jane spoke, a sullen Lisbon pretended not to be interested. She'd had a lot to drink and was starting to feel combative. But when he reached his confession, she felt as though she'd had the wind knocked out of her. She was dizzy (was it the booze?) and a little disoriented. When the full impact of his words hit her, she flushed a deep red. She didn't dare to raise her eyes to meet his. It felt like the moment on a first date-that awful, apprehensive, sweaty moment-when you don't know if he is going to kiss you or not, and you're waiting, waiting…She didn't want to be that girl on a date. But she'd lost control of the situation.

"Teresa," he whispered tenderly. "Look at me."

She raised her eyes. He reached out and stroked the side of her face. Then he grasped her face gently and kissed her.

It had been so long since she'd kissed anyone that her first reaction was panic. But he just continued to kiss her, not expecting anything in return. She allowed him to explore her mouth, then her neck, and then he put both arms around her. "This was worth waiting ten years for," he said mischievously.

Lisbon let her head drop on his shoulder. She found to her dismay that she was utterly speechless and shy. She wanted to say it, but the words strangled her. She squeezed her eyes shut, her heart pounding, and tears began to leak through her tightly closed lids. Damn it, Jane, she thought. You don't deserve my love, and you know it. And now you're forcing me to confess what I wouldn't even confess to myself until a few weeks ago.

"Why are you crying?" he asked, stroking her hair. (How considerate of him to pretend he doesn't know, she thought angrily.)

"I thought I was transparent and you know everything that I'm thinking."

"It's the one thing I can't read in you: what your feelings are for me. I feel like I'm plucking the petals off a daisy, saying She loves me, she loves me not. I suspect that you don't_ want _to love me-I'm a piece of work, we both know that, damaged goods, you could do so much better, and I don't mean Walter Mashburn," he said with the shadow of a grin.

"I don't want to love you. I want to go back to being the woman I was before I met you. Now I feel trapped. I feel like I have to let you protect me, which isn't the same as loving, all because I'm so damn scared!"

"You're afraid to go home, so you are going to be sleeping here from now on? Don't you think the team will think that's a little strange?"

"I don't care what anyone thinks. I want to escape. Run away from Red John." She was astonished to hear herself sob. She angrily rubbed her eyes with her fingers.

"Teresa…" Jane held her more tightly. "Don't you think I'm scared too? Don't you think I want to escape?The problem is, there's no escape! We have no choice. We are in this until death, if necessary. It's like some deadly marriage. We can't escape, and we can't be angry with each other and avoid each other, because that will weaken our partnership and make it easy for him to overwhelm us. "

The truth of this was not lost on Lisbon, despite the persistent haze of alcohol.

He continued to speak, less shakily now.

"I never thought I could ever love another woman after Angela. But the more I think back on it, I realize that I was already half in love with you, though I didn't know it, that day when I came into the CBI and you let me have the Red John files. And the more I worked with you…well, you know." Lisbon suddenly noticed that he was no longer wearing his wedding ring. Reading her thoughts again, he said, "I wasn't going to take it off until after Red John was dead. Angela and Charlotte- I felt I owed them that. Taking it off would give me permission to start a new life with another woman. And I had to earn the right to a new life by killing Red John and avenging Angela and Charlotte. But now the game has changed. We could both end up dead. Do I really want to wait until you're dying to tell you that I love you? Or what if I die before I get a chance to tell you? We have to live for today, Teresa. And that means being honest with each other. How ironic, me talking about being honest."

Lisbon stroked his hair timidly. "Remember when I rescued you from drowning? I really thought I was going to lose you, and I kept saying No, No, and giving you CPR, and I think I realized then that I would be devastated if you…and I knew then that I loved you."

His face brightened, but he didn't smile.

"So you do love me? "

"Yes, God help me, I love you…Patrick." She stumbled a little over his given name. "It's going to be weird calling you Patrick." She tried to force a smile.

"It doesn't matter what you call me. Teresa is a lovely name. It rolls easily off the tongue. But I hope you don't mind if I call you my angry little princess from time to time."

"Oh, God, I was so mad at you when you said that! I think you'll agree I'm not exaggerating when I say that a suicide bomb strapped on you can really ruin your day. And then to have to try on Grace's damn bridesmaid dress! It didn't even fit me. And then to hear you tell me that B.S. about telling Grace to ask me to be her bridesmaid. I wanted to strangle you." She smiled. "It wasn't the first, nor the last time."

Jane's grin expanded to full size.


	2. Chapter 2

He was seething when she left the attic.

She's acting defeated, already, before we even began to work out a strategy. She's terrified and trying to hide it.

So she pulls that stupid "officer of the law, protect and serve" crap. I don't need a lecture at a time like this. And why doesn't she trust me? After all these years and cases solved together, she still sees me as a maverick who must be reined in, even though I have never failed to solve a case.

Except Red John.

The elusive, maddening, baffling, menacing Red John.

And even if we found Red John, she wouldn't let me kill him. She'd arrest me and put me in handcuffs. Or so she says. She's got to realize by now that taking Red John into custody would be insane. No prison would hold him for long. He'd have one of his moles get a job as a guard, and then he'd be sprung. No, Red John has to die, and if I go to prison for killing him, then so be it. But you'd think she'd want to help me kill him. Instead, she wants to involve the whole team in some crazy plan that will get us all killed. She doesn't even realize that I'm a good enough shot now to nail that bastard myself. But no, it has to be by the book, it's Saint Teresa's case, and we all follow her orders. Well, I said a long time ago that Red John is mine, and I intend to kill him myself. She'll just have to arrest me. That is, if he doesn't kill her first. She'd better let me be her bodyguard (I like the sound of that!) or I will have to lock her in a room somewhere and guard her myself. She is so stubborn that she won't be protected. And now she's saying she's tired. Too tired to work on a plan of action.

But I probably shouldn't have told her she belongs in a nunnery.

And I hurt her feelings. Why can't I ever keep my mouth shut?

I'm going to go to her and apologize. She'll forgive me. She always does. Even though I don't deserve it.

Later that night, after the apology, after the kiss, after the talking, Jane and Lisbon ended up entwined on the couch together, asleep at long last in the safety of each other's arms. Jane thought that this was the only place Lisbon would be completely safe. So he intended to keep her there are much as possible. She fell asleep first. The poor woman had drunk enough to make her seriously hung over the next morning. Almost as soon as she had settled her small body into Jane's arms, her eyes closed, her long black lashes brushing her fair cheeks, her breath barely audible, soft, even, like a child's. Jane could feel the beating of her heart under his clasped hands. He was overcome with remorse for allowing his fear and anger at Red John to cause him to hurt Teresa. She was Teresa to him from now on, not the brusque Lisbon. He vowed, as he had so many times before, never to speak coldly and harshly to her again. I have to convince her that I love her, he thought, almost depairingly.

It was a very long time before sleep finally overcame his hyperactive mind, which kept going in circles trying to figure out a way to find Red John and protect Teresa at the same time. After a while, it seemed that he had awakened, but he wasn't in Teresa's office anymore on the couch with her. Instead, he was in the driver's seat of his Citroën, and someone was sitting beside him. It was a young girl, a teenager, slender, with blonde hair reaching her waist, and large blue eyes full of mischievous wit. He knew this girl. It was his daughter Charlotte.

How did he get here? What did it mean?

Charlotte was the first to speak. She leaned towards him and said, "Hi Dad! I had to come back to see you again. You needed my help last time, but you really need it now. I told you to stop looking for Red John. Do I have to repeat myself? Mom and I are both so over Red John. He's ruining your life, and it's making us angry and sad to watch it happen when you could walk away. Yes, Dad, walk away! Stop taking Teresa for granted. She deserves your respect. You're lucky to have the love of a woman like that. The way you're going, you're going to get her killed. A life with her is worth more than killing Red John. You can't have both. I love you Dad, but you are incredibly stupid."

"And how do you propose to get me out of this situation? You know, of course, that he is going to start killing frequently, killing people who formed my happiest memories. He's already killed LeeLee. I don't think he's going to go after Teresa yet, but he will go after someone from my past and I have no way of knowing who. I can protect Teresa, whether she wants me to or not. I know how to use a gun. Do you think I can just walk away when innocent people are going to die because of me?"

"That's all the more reason you should walk away. If you don't play his game, it won't be any fun for him to kill people, and he won't. You know what you should do? Take Teresa and escape. Leave the country. Go far away to an island that no tourists go to. He'll never find you. He doesn't expect you to leave, so you can do it quickly and by the time he finds out you're gone, you will be thousands of miles away."

"He knows I won't be able to stay away if he kills someone, so that's what he'll do to lure me back. Charlotte, Red John is winning. He's trapped me in a game that I have no choice but to play. He knows that I have to protect Teresa, but I can't be around her every second of every day. He'll find a way to get her when he wants her."

"So why don't you just give up, then? If he's winning and there's no hope? You do have a choice. There's always a choice. If you keep chasing him, you might catch him, but at what cost? How many people have to die first? And would you sacrifice Teresa to get him? Um, I don't think so."

"Charlotte…can't you think of another way? I need someone to help me think. I can't do this alone. And Teresa is so frightened that she won't even go home to sleep. I might have to share this knowledge with the team…or at least with Cho. He might be helpful in thinking of a strategy."

Charlotte rolled her eyes. "You haven't been listening to a thing I've been saying. Do I have to go talk to her now and tell her that you'd rather seek out Red John than escape somewhere with her?"

"She won't leave the CBI! She probably has about a year of vacation time because she never takes a vacation. But just try to take her away from the team and see what happens. She'll rip your head off."

"I doubt it. I really like her and I know she'd like me. We have to gang up on you, Dad."

"And I'm telling you that you're crazy if you think she'd run away with me to some desert island."

"Dad…I love you…but you're being so pigheaded!" She opened the passenger door and stepped lightly out of the car.

"Wait! Where are you going?"

"Back."

"Back where?"

Charlotte smiled. "It's not a place. It's an idea. A parallel universe. And I might not come back because it's not doing any good to talk sense to you."

"Charlotte! You can't go and leave me again! Charlotte!" Jane wailed piteously. "Please don't go! Please!"

His eyes were full of tears.

"Dad, you won't ever learn the lesson you were meant to learn. So I have to leave you now." She kissed his cheek, and it felt like a butterfly had brushed it with its wings.

She walked away and gradually disappeared into the mist that was rising from the damp ground.

Jane wept silently so as not to wake Lisbon.

He felt more desolate and despairing than ever. He wished that his mind would stop cruelly conjuring up his daughter and then making her disappear. It was almost as if Red John had sent her. Was he capable of that too?


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Cho always arrived at work early. He was a businesslike, efficient worker and a perceptive observer.

He'd already noticed Lisbon's car still parked in its space. Cho frowned. When had she ever arrived before him?

He strode up to her office and rapped on the door.

"Boss?"

Lisbon awoke with a start and a pounding headache. Jane was asleep, lying on his side, and she didn't want to wake him. Oh, God, how was she going to explain this? She knew better than to try to lie to Cho.

Lisbon opened the door a crack and stood so that Cho's view of the couch was blocked.

"Uh…hi Cho, I was just doing some paperwork…"

Cho thought: She looks terrible. Slept in her clothes. And she's hung over.

"Cho, give me a moment. I need to clean up a little. I didn't go home last night."

Cho silently fixed her with an expressionless gaze.

"I'll need you to look up some files regarding the Clarkson case."

"Right, Boss." And Cho returned to his desk, knowing that something was a little off, and wondered what it was.

Jane was still asleep on the couch in Lisbon's office.

Lisbon returned from the rest room after splashing some soap and cold water on her face. Her head was buzzing and painful. She wished she had some pain reliever. How was she going to get Jane to slip out of her office unnoticed? It was 8:45 and no one was at work yet except Cho. Rigsby and Van Pelt were probably sleeping together, she thought wistfully. Lisbon was looking the other way with determination-they'd loved each other for so many years now. They could come and go together without embarrassment. Would she and Jane ever…

_Snap out of it_, she told herself. There were two cases to deal with today besides Red John. In fact, Red John was the least pressing. Or maybe not. She longed to tell Cho about Lorelei's speech on the DVD. Cho would be angry at Jane for crushing the disc, saying (correctly) that he should have had forensics look at it, not that they would find anything. She also longed to regain control of the Red John case: Jane was calling the shots now, and she didn't have to allow that to happen. Suppose she told the rest of the team? Called a meeting without Jane present? She'd have to invent a pretext for him to leave-pick up pizza? No, Jane was far too smart not to suspect that something was afoot. This was giving her an even bigger headache.

She returned to her office and Jane was gone.

Van Pelt was bent intently over her computer. Rigsby was trying to look busy. Cho was studying the files he had retrieved. None of them glanced up to look at her as she came in. The atmosphere was quiet and purposeful. But no Jane lying on his leather couch, seemingly indolent, but thinking. Well, good. It was better this way-she was bound to feel awkward around him since they had crossed the line separating platonic and romantic love. Lisbon felt keenly the burden of so many secrets. This was not the way she was accustomed to dealing with her team. They were all smart, good detectives, reliable, professional, and she loved them. She saw them a lot more frequently than her own brothers. The worst part of it was that it wouldn't take any of them long to guess the truth about all of the secrets. They already knew that she and Jane had been unusually rattled by the last Red John murder. They also suspected that there was a lot more than just friendship between Lisbon and Jane. It made her intensely uncomfortable that everyone knew, but she and Jane couldn't be open about it.

At least not until Red John was dead.

Dead, not captured alive. Lisbon had come to agree with Jane that no prison could hold Red John. She wasn't sure how to accomplish the killing: it had to look like self-defense. Could one of them provoke Red John into attacking while the other shot him? The problem was that any plan they came up with would never cover all of the unknown and unexpected occurences that would invariably take place. Red John was certain to have minions wherever he was hiding-he would never allow the CBI to take him when he was alone. And followers/bodyguards meant that she and Jane would be outnumbered and outgunned. Surely Jane must realize this. He wasn't crazy enough to go rogue on them and try to kill Red John by himself. Or was he?

If Jane really didn't care if he died in the attempt to kill Red John, then how could he possibly love her?

Didn't he know that she would never get over his death? How could he be so obsessed?

Lisbon sighed as she sat down at her desk, which was piled high with paperwork as usual. She held her aching head in her hands and tried to think. And just then, Jane strode into the room.

"I think I've discovered the cure for my insomnia. It involves sleeping with you every night."

Lisbon managed a weak smile.

"Your head's been hurting ever since you woke up today. I can make the pain go away."

"I don't know, Jane…here? now?"

He walked toward her. "Stand up facing me." Obediently, she stood up.

"Now, you're in a very safe, warm, special place, where you don't have to be afraid of anything, and you can just relax. That's right, relax," he continued in a soothing voice. "You're feeling the pain flowing out of you. Your eyes are closed. You're breathing deeply, in and out, in and out, just the quiet flow of your breath, and your muscles are unclenching and you have no tension left in your head or in any other part of your body."

After a minute or so, Lisbon, eyes closed, was about to topple over and Jane caught her. She laughed. "The pain's gone!" she exclaimed.

"Of course it is. It's called guided imagery."

"Is it like the memory palace?"

"Hmm…similar."

"Thank you…Patrick."

"My pleasure, Teresa."

"We have to talk about our Red John strategy."

"Yes, of course. You'll be glad to know that after I put some things together, I was able to eliminate some of the seven suspects."

"Which ones?"

"That would be telling, Lisbon."

_"Jane!"_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**_The second to last line in chapter 3 comes from "The Prisoner," the 60s British TV show created by and starring Patrick McGoohan, a fine actor and writer. If you haven't seen it, go to Netflix immediately and watch it._**

**_It's about a man who resigns from the MI-6, and a mysterious and sinister organization wants to find out why he resigned. It's a classic and I am sure that Bruno Heller loves it._**

_**I had to revise this chapter because it turns out I had my timeline wrong. The serial killings began in 1988, not 1998. So whoever was on the farm then and in their teens to early 20's is a good suspect for RJ. I'm having a hell of a time with the next chapter because the pieces of the puzzle are just not fitting together and I may have to suspend the story until Sept. 29 and we all get more info and hopefully some clues! Thank you all who have reviewed the story-I can use all the help I can get with this one!**_

"Jane! Stop being an ass and tell me who you ruled out!"

Jane grinned. "All right, all right! But between us, remember. I am first pleased to eliminate Bret Stiles from the list, although he does know who Red John is and maybe where he is. I've been thinking about the Visualize connection and the smiley face on the side of the barn. A while ago I spoke to Father Di Buono, who was at the farm in 1988 when the killings started. He mentioned a strange young man on the farm who he believes painted the smiley. And if that's true, there are only four suspects who were young enough then to be Red John. Stiles is too old."

"That's assuming it was Red John who painted that smiley."

"Come on, Lisbon, who else would it have been?"

"Maybe he stole the idea from someone else. We need proof."

Jane rolled his eyes. "You cops and your proof."

Lisbon decided to try another angle.

"I never told you this, but Ray Haffner showed up while I was on the Volker case to offer me a job with his private company. I told him I'm happy where I am. In the conversation I found out that he became a member of Visualize as a teenager, and also that he knew some privileged information about the farm that I hadn't told anyone. I didn't tell you because I didn't think he could possibly…"

"Hmmm…I suspected as much. Haffner could be Red John. Haffner would have been around 21 in 1988. Stiles would have been 40 or so. Stiles' current age, around 65, doesn't make it likely that he committed the more recent serial killings. He's not physically fit and it's difficult to imagine him physically overpowering young women. So who on the list would have been in his 20s 25 years ago? Haffner! Kirkland and Reede Smith are also the correct age, so I can't rule them out. But it rules out McAllister and Bertram."

"Your theory seems to be entirely based on speculation. But I agree that Haffner is involved if not actually Red John himself. When I confronted him about Visualize, he tried to make light of it, saying he doesn't think Stiles is God, but he believes that the organization has taught him to maximize his potential."

"Haffner is either a dangerous criminal playing a very deep game or merely a corporate suit who dabbles in New Age drivel. We need to get more on him. Now, who else could still be Red John? Partridge. He would have been only about 15 in '88, but that still puts him in the ballpark. Now, Partridge, he's a piece of work. The man is repulsive, ghoulish, and enjoys his job too much. Also professes admiration for Red John. His cover as a forensics specialist is not at all charismatic. Could this be a man that women will literally die for? If he's as clever as we know Red John to be, he's carefully keeping a low profile at the CBI, and he has a whole other persona that he uses on troubled women and weak-minded men. Lorelei and Rosalind would never have given Partridge (as we know him) the time of day. Same goes for Kirkland-he could be a young Richard Nixon with that five o'clock shadow-or Reede Smith, a nondescript, pudgy, ill-tempered guy. But a smart psychopath knows how to mimic human emotions and is quite capable of playing many parts and assuming several aliases."

"So who is left on the list?"

"I think we have to consider Haffner very seriously, and not rule out Partridge, Kirkland, and Smith. Narrows it down to four. A good day's work, eh Lisbon?"

"Even if you have narrowed it down, our work has barely begun. We have to look up info on the backgrounds of all the remaining suspects. And you know as well as I do that the team is needed for that kind of research."

"Let me think about it."

"Do you really think that you can do the kind of background research that Van Pelt does? You barely know your way around a computer."

"I told you that I'm worried about him targeting Van Pelt."

"We have to take some risks. We have no choice. And I can set it up so that Cho and Rigsby are watching her back."

"You underestimate the prowess of our enemy. He could take out all three of them."

"Then how do you propose that we go about this? We can't do it without help, Jane."

"I'm not saying they wouldn't be useful in the endgame-we will need backup-but until we have a plan…"

"They already know something's not right, trust me. Cho was looking at me very suspiciously this morning. We can't hide this from them."

"Hmmm…that's true."

"And another thing. They know we are more than just partners."

"Does that really matter? Look at Rigsby and Van Pelt. And Cho and Summer."

"Summer the C.I.? They had something going? And I didn't know?"

"Teresa, you can't stop love. Why are you trying so hard? Just because you are afraid of intimacy doesn't mean that other people are."

"You're not exactly forthcoming about your feelings either-at least until last night. It's a very tough call for me as the head of the team. I have to make sure that the team is acting professionally at all times. Romances are messy and can endanger people."

"And romances are inevitable wherever people work together. I maintain that it makes us all more professional and less subject to divide and conquer."

Lisbon sighed. Was he ever going to understand?

Jane got up from the couch in Lisbon's office. "I know you think I'm a renegade," he said. "But haven't I closed every case except Red John?" He walked over to where she was standing and put his arm around her.

"Not in here! This is what I mean about maintaining professionalism! No displays of affection at the office! If Bertram ever saw us, that would be the end of my job. Especially when they all suspect us."

"No one can see us in here!"

"Anyone can look through the blinds and they will get suspicious if I have them lowered all the time. We're just lucky that Cho didn't catch us sleeping together on the couch!" She smiled a little in spite of herself.

Jane was quick to catch that smile, and said, "You see? Deep down, you enjoy the danger!"

"OK, believe whatever you want, but now I have paperwork to do and you need to leave."

"All right, but I'll be back."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"Grace, I need you to listen very carefully to what I'm going to tell you. You have to promise not to tell anyone. _Anyone_. Do you want me to continue?" Lisbon instinctively glanced around the hotel room as she half whispered into the phone. She had decided that a hotel was the safest place to stay, and had watched carefully to make sure she wasn't being followed as she drove there.

"Um…I guess so."

"Jane has narrowed down his list of Red John suspects to seven names. I want a GPS planted on each one."

"Does Jane know about this?"

"He will know when the time is right."

"I need to get a pencil and paper."

"No, you can't write anything down."

Van Pelt took a deep breath and listened as Lisbon recited the list of names, and she committed them to memory. Luckily she was almost as good at this as Jane was. Then she returned to her desk. It was late-maybe nine or ten, she didn't have a watch on. Rigsby was still at his desk, waiting for her.

"You're working late."

"Yeah, you know, Lisbon, no concept of time…"

"Is everything all right?"

"Sure. I just have some paperwork to complete."

"Grace, I need you to tell me what's going on."

As soon as Lisbon ended her call to Van Pelt, she realized that Jane would be furious when he discovered her plan, as he was bound to do. She felt uncomfortable breaking her word to him, but she felt that she had to share the information with someone on the team and begin pursuit of the suspects, and as team leader and officer of the law she was compelled to take action. Jane certainly hadn't come up with any ideas to narrow down the field or get more information. And Grace was the one she could trust the most not to reveal the secret. Rigsby would try to get it out of her, though, and Lisbon hoped that Grace would be able to come up with a plausible fiction.

She sighed. She wasn't even sure where Jane was right now-she assumed he was in his attic, but she had the uncomfortable feeling that he might be taking matters into his own hands and pursuing his own investigation without her and the team. She'd tried to persuade him not to do this, tried to make him promise her not to go rogue, but he'd said that he couldn't promise her anything. Well, if he refused to cooperate with the investigation, she was justified in leaving him out of the loop for now.

Lisbon lay awake for a very long time, fingering the cross she always wore and praying that she had made the right call.

She didn't have to wait long to face Jane's fury.

"You told her! After you promised not to tell anyone! You've put everyone on the team in danger now. I knew I couldn't trust you with this."

"It's my investigation and I'll conduct it as I see fit..."

"You're out of your depth!"

She had never seen him so angry.

"If you won't cooperate with the team, I'm taking you off this case, Jane."

His face was distorted into a sneer.

"I told you, Red John is _mine_ and I meant it. You've left me no choice but to go it alone. I can't protect you or any of the people who are going to know before long."

"Grace won't tell anyone."

"Oh, please, Rigsby's already gotten it out of her and probably told Cho by now. Did you even _think_ about what you were doing when you told her?"

"You don't know for a fact that she's told anyone."

"I can guess, and my guesses are rarely wrong."

Lisbon drew herself up to her full height of five feet two inches.

"What did you expect me to do? I am in charge of this investigation and I had to make that call. If we never track the suspects, how do you suggest we find out which one is Red John? You haven't come up with any ideas, and there is no time to waste. And I seem to remember you saying you couldn't promise me not to go off on your own, which would be really stupid and probably get you killed, as if you care. So if I can't count on you, you can't count on me."

"Oh, I thought this was all about trust, Lisbon. Partners, remember? No more lies? You're a hypocrite. You want to be in control of the situation, but you have no clue who you're dealing with. Red John knows everything you're doing. He's ahead of your every move."

Anger and hurt flashed in Lisbon's green eyes.

"So I guess by your reasoning we ought to just abandon hope of ever finding him and stopping him. After all, he's smarter than we are, so we might as well give up. Are you giving up?"

"Of course not! Nothing could induce me to give up. And I don't care if I die in the attempt to kill him. Because I _will_ kill him, Lisbon. I will find him without your help. I don't want you or the team to be involved anymore. It's too dangerous."

She looked at him steadily, trying to compose herself. He really was going to leave the team and search for Red John alone. He's lost his mind, she thought. And he's a stubborn bastard. He'll get himself killed, and I can't stop him.

With an effort, her expression and speech became cold.

"You'll do as you please, just as you've always done, without regard either for the law or the feelings of those who care about you. I love you, and I'd do anything to stop you from this reckless course you're taking, but I can't. You don't love me, or you'd never do this."

Jane's eyes were icy and his face grim.

"I can't afford to love you now. If I allow my feelings for you to dictate what I do, I'll never get him. You've made it impossible for me to work with you. So as of right now, I quit the CBI. You'll have to work without a consultant. Good luck with that." And he turned abruptly and walked out the door of her hotel room.

"Jane! You can't just leave without trying to resolve this-"

"Watch me." And he was gone.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Patrick Jane, a man who was neither consistent nor predictable, had just forgotten the promise he had made to himself that he would never speak coldly and harshly to Lisbon again. And he'd gone back to calling her Lisbon, in an unconscious attempt to recreate a professional distance between them. He was discovering that once professional distance is lost, it can't be recovered. Even as he was spitting invective at her, he could not stop noticing her beauty and her dignity, remembering what it was like to finally sleep through the night because she was in his arms, and wanting to kiss her again.

His feelings were at war with his mind. He knew he must not be diverted from his mission, even if it meant accomplishing it alone-or failing to accomplish it. And yet, if he was truthful with himself, he didn't want to die in the attempt. He had something to live for now. His biggest fear was that she would be captured by Red John, and in truth, it didn't really matter if the team was tailing him or not. If he decides he wants her, he will take her, regardless. He's probably laughing at Lisbon's plan right now. The real reason I'm angry, he thought, is that she is being reckless, not that she is goading Red John to attack. He's already decided he will kill people representing a happy memory of mine. The real reason I lost it just now is that I don't want her looking for him, period. I want them all off the case. I want them to disappear for a while, vanish into witness protection, retreat while I advance alone.

But I won't be able to stop them. She's determined to run this her way. Even if I were to return to the CBI, she wouldn't take my advice. So only one option remains: I must find him before he finds her. But how? Where do I start?

He had left the hotel and was walking down the darkening street. A light rain was falling. He decided that he would go to the shooting range the next day-it was vital to keep practicing the skills he had learned. When he got back to his attic, he gathered the few possessions he owned and brought them down the elevator to his car. He drove to the motel where he sometimes stayed and checked in. He was a man without a home, without a family, without friends, utterly alone. And now he had no job-he was leaving the CBI behind him.

Jane sat down on the hard motel bed. The room had that cheap motel smell, a combination of mold, cleaning products, perspiration, and alcohol. He opened a small suitcase and took out his gun. It was a Glock, the same kind that Lisbon had. He had always hated firearms and went out of his way to avoid violent confrontations, but there was no other way. He couldn't run Red John over with his car. He couldn't get close enough to knife him, poison him or drown him.

And then the thought came to him.

What about hiring a hit man?

He lay awake thinking about how to find the best hired killer in the business.

Early the next morning Jane was off to the shooting range. He had made sure to choose a range where the CBI team members were unlikely to show up. He'd been going there for months, but he had barely spoken to anyone. It wasn't the kind of place where you made friends. Shooting buddies, maybe. He was often reminded of the young man on the edge of a mass killing and the elaborate ruse he (Jane) staged using Wainwright as the catalyst.

There might be a professional hit man who practiced at this very shooting range.

He tried to cold read the men standing next to him. He wasn't getting the feeling that any of them were hired killers. Most of them were guys who were either military or ex-military. He wandered around for a few minutes, scoping out the people. There were only about a dozen of them. And then he saw her.

A woman wearing a leather jacket and tight jeans. She was tall, maybe five ten, with straight blond hair that reached her shoulders, and she appeared to be between twenty-five and thirty-five. She was an excellent shooter, never missing her mark. Jane watched her from a discreet distance. Then he began his own target practice. He continued for about fifteen minutes, always keeping an eye on her. He had a feeling about this woman. He needed to speak to her.

He approached her with his famous smile, which few women could resist. "I've been admiring your shooting," he said.

The woman gazed back at him with no expression in her calm blue eyes. "Thank you," she said. "You're pretty good yourself." She had a slight accent-Russian?

Jane appraised her with a quick but penetrating glance.

"You're not easily scared. Very goal-oriented. Ex-military, single, well-educated in Europe, though you grew up in Russia. You have a ruthless streak which you're very good at concealing. I'm guessing that you have more than one way of making a living: your legitimate cover job, and your real job: killing for hire."

She raised an eyebrow and looked as though she might smile, but thought better of it. "You have either looked into my background or you are an extraordinary reader of people. Maybe both."

"I can assure you I haven't investigated you-I don't even know your name. I've worked with the police to help solve cases, and I used to make a good living pretending to be a psychic. It just so happens that I'm looking for a hit man (woman, in your case) and I'll pay top dollar for your services."

"I'm not sure you can be trusted," said the woman. "What guarantee do I have that you won't report me to the police?"

"I'm afraid I have no such guarantee. But I'll tell you this: the police are looking for the man I want killed. He's a notorious serial killer who goes by the name of Red John. I've been trying to discover his true identity for years-he murdered my wife and daughter ten years ago, and he's murdered countless others, mostly women. He's a brilliant, devious, elusive man. This is why I haven't been able to find him and kill him myself. That was my original goal. That's the reason I can't involve the police. This man is extremely dangerous. He's playing a cat and mouse game with me, and I can't walk away from it because more innocent people will be murdered. I've come to the realization that I can't succeed alone. So…I need your help."

As Jane was speaking, he noticed that the woman turned pale with a bright red spot of blush on each cheek.

"I know Red John," she said finally after Jane had finished his explanation. "I don't know his true identity, though. I am one of the very few who escaped from his mind control, hypnosis, torture, and sheer bullying. He tried to turn me into one of his followers, but he failed. I have been trying to find him myself for the past two years, but as you say, he is clever and evades discovery. For his own reasons, he has chosen not to pursue me. And…now I know who you are. Patrick Jane. I heard about your family long before Red John got hold of me. Terrible thing. My condolences. Mr. Jane, you would not have to pay me to find and kill Red John, but I suspect that you will insist…"

Jane found himself speechless, perhaps for the first time in his life. Could this be for real?

She certainly knew how to shoot to kill. And to have escaped Red John she must be extremely resourceful.

"May I ask your name?" he asked when he recovered his voice.

"You can call me Amanita. The destroying angel."

"Amanita…that's the name of a poisonous mushroom, invariably fatal if ingested." Jane never missed a chance to show off his knowledge of minutia.

For the first time, Amanita smiled. Her smile was almost as dazzling as Jane's. She was not strictly speaking a beautiful woman-her features were irregular, her hair somewhat lank, her body graceful but not curvaceous. But she was undeniably attractive. She projected a calm confidence, steely determination, and something slightly menacing in her demeanor.

"Perhaps some day I may tell you my real name, but for now it is dangerous for me to allow people to know it."

"Amanita, this looks like the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Or at least a fruitful partnership."

"There are some things that I require," said Amanita. "First, absolute secrecy. You must speak to no one about me. Second: You may be my accomplice but only if I decide it is necessary. You must agree to allow me to do the job without any interference from you."

"Reasonable," said Jane. "Anything else?"

"We contact each other only using a disposable cell phone. If we need to meet in person, I will arrange the meeting in a safe place."

Jane raised his hand as if to stop her from speaking. "Wait. I have the names of seven suspects. I've eliminated one, but the other six must be followed and investigated. I narrowed this list down from over a thousand men. One of Red John's girlfriends, Lorelei Martins, told me that I shook hands with him. So I used this plus many other variables to narrow the list down to seven. Somehow, Red John was able to guess the names of each of my seven suspects-I never had it in writing, so I haven't been able to figure out how he did it. He made a DVD recently which one of his operatives gave me. In this video, narrated by Lorelei, he says that he's going to begin killing more often. He's angry at my supposed cleverness in putting together a suspect list. He's gloating at the fact that he came up with my exact list, saying he has psychic powers, which is ridiculous, as you know."

"Where is this DVD now?"

"I destroyed it because I didn't want it to fall into the wrong hands. Since then, I've regretted it. Something might have been learned from it, even though he's very careful not to leave any evidence that'll tell us where he is."

"Too bad. I would have liked to see it. But this information you have is very good, very helpful. And speaking of Lorelei Martins, I know her."

"Knew her, you mean. He killed her after he made the video."

"No. She escaped from him with my help and faked her own death. She is alive in a location I will not disclose to anyone."

Jane gasped involuntarily. But now that he thought about it, he hadn't looked closely to see if Lorelei was really dead at the crime scene. He had assumed the paramedics had determined her death, but maybe they weren't really paramedics? The whole thing had been staged!

"I know that Lorelei was going to kill him if she could. So instead, she escaped, because she realized she couldn't do it?"

"Correct. I myself attempted to kill him while I was in his custody, but failed, so escape was my only option also."

Jane wanted to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

"I could use a drink," he said. "Can I buy you one?"

Amanita shook her head. "No. We can't be seen together. But thanks anyway."

"Please let me to pay you for this. You're going to be in great danger. He may already know you're after him."

She shrugged. "He can run, but he can't hide forever," she said. "OK, what's the amount?"

"Fifty thousand dollars. I wish I could pay you more, but that's all the cash I have on hand."

"You are more than generous, Mr. Jane. We can arrange for payment later. We need to get phones as soon as possible."

"Consider it done. I'll get them today and give you yours here at the range."

"Good enough." She smiled again. Mr. Jane, we have a common enemy. And we will find him and destroy him."

"You've given me hope," said Jane, shaking her hand. His gut trusted this woman. Otherwise he would not have given her any information. He could tell she wasn't lying about wanting to kill Red John. It had crossed his mind that she could be a very clever Red John operative seeking to lead him astray, but there was something about her that rang true. "Wait 'til I tell Lisbon!" was his first thought as he left the range to buy the phones. _But he couldn't tell her._ They had said to each other: No more secrets. And here was a huge secret that she must not know. Good thing he'd quit the CBI. I'll miss her so much, he thought wistfully. I wish we could be partners again. But this is so much better. So much safer. Amanita will get the bastard. I know she will. She knows how to find people and kill them. She almost killed him when she was his prisoner. She's not afraid of him. Maybe the only person I know who isn't afraid of him. This is going to work. I can feel it.

Please review this chapter! It came to me as a wild idea tonight and I just followed it…I need advice.


	7. Chapter 7

This chapter is very short. I may add more about Amanita's backstory, but that could be an entire story by itself.

Chapter 7

The woman known to Jane as Amanita perused his list of suspects as she drank her coffee in a small cafe early the next morning. She hoped to eliminate more names from the list based on her knowledge of Red John.

Amanita had last seen Red John over a year ago. After her escape, she was able to determine that the compound where she was held captive was located somewhere in Idaho, but it was in a remote area accessible only by a dirt road. She knew that he had hideouts in California and other western states. He could be anywhere at any given time, which made it essential to find some of his operatives who could lead her to him.

She was connected to a worldwide network of women who were victims of domestic abuse, rape, and stalking. These women gave her contracts to kill men whom the police ignored and who would be likely to murder their victims. Most of her clients were poor or middle class, but a few very wealthy clients made large cash donations to the organization, which allowed her to be paid well. Amanita had a cover job as a tech support person at a library. She had been able to keep a low profile for years, but Red John was still able to find her.

It turned out that one of her hits was a friend of his. Through his network of spies and minions, he had her kidnapped and brought to him. He taunted her and jeered at her for some time before ordering one of his men to torture her with a taser and a lit cigarette. He himself cut her in such a way that she bled profusely but not enough to kill her. Every day he sent one of his goons to rough her up. He seemed to derive so much enjoyment from this that he'd decided not to kill her. She made several attempts to kill him with improvised weapons and once with poison (she found some baited rat traps and tried to slip some poison into his food when he insisted on dining with her. But the right moment never presented itself.) She finally crafted an elaborate escape plan, enlisting the help of Lorelei, who by then was seeking vengeance on Red John for murdering her sister. Once she was safe from him (as far as she could tell, no one had come after her) she vowed to kill him if she possibly could.

Amanita had served in the Israeli military and was well trained in the use of assault weapons, explosives, hand to hand fighting and martial arts. The result of this was that she was supremely confident of her abilities and a fearless and formidable adversary. She remained calm under pressure, was quick-witted and resourceful. Her height and demeanor put her on a par with the average man. She was ready to take on her next job.

Patrick Jane was the first man to order a hit from her.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Teresa Lisbon arrived at work early that morning. Not before Cho, who was already at his desk. Lisbon felt the need for extra caution-Cho could read her better than Jane, and she was sure he could tell something was up. She got a cup of coffee and retreated to the privacy of her office.

When Grace arrived, Lisbon had prepared herself not to reveal anything between them by word or look, which was much more difficult than she thought. She knew that if she spoke privately to Grace in her office it would be subject to scrutiny by Cho and Rigsby (the latter was already suspicious that Grace was hiding something, and he had undoubtedly told Cho.) Grace was not only her employee but a friend-at least the closest thing Lisbon had to a friend besides Jane. Lisbon was afraid that Grace was already in danger even though she had not told anyone about their conversation of the night before.

"Grace, I need to speak to you in my office," said Lisbon with her best poker face on.

"OK Boss," Grace answered casually, betraying no nervousness in her eyes.

Cho and Rigsby very pointedly did not look up from their work.

In her office with Grace, Lisbon again emphasized the need for absolute secrecy. "Not even Wayne, Grace. I know it's going to be hard."

"He's already been interrogating me. I let him know that it was annoying and would he please stop it. I told him that Jane had disappeared again and isn't answering his phone. I said you needed my computer skills to help locate him. I said I was worried about you because you were so upset that he did this again without telling you. I think he bought it, but he thinks I'm not telling him the whole story."

"I guess that'll work for a while. Actually, it's true. We had an argument and he said he was quitting the CBI. He stormed out and I haven't heard from him since. He was furious that I gave you any information. As if I had any other choice! We have to pursue this investigation as a team, which means not withholding important developments in the case. If he's not willing to take orders from me, he doesn't have to work with us. I've had it with him. He's always followed his own rules, endangering himself and others. Now he's going solo on the Red John investigation. I couldn't stop him. I'm afraid he's going to get into terrible trouble and we won't be able to help him."

Lisbon had two faint frown lines between her brows. They constricted as her eyes began to shine with tears. Grace pretended not to notice in order to save her boss' dignity.

"I think I can help find him," said Grace. "I can put a remote GPS trace on his phone. Assuming he's using it. And we need to put an APB out on him."

Her boss nodded, but didn't answer. She looked smaller than usual, hunched over in her desk chair, trying not to cry. Grace knew that Lisbon should be more worried about her own safety than Jane's. More than anyone, she was an almost certain target for Red John's wrath.

Grace put a gentle hand on Lisbon's shoulder.

"I've been thinking…you're in more danger than any of us. I'd like to have your permission to be your bodyguard. At least let me stay with you at the hotel. You shouldn't ever be alone, at least for a while."

Lisbon was about to protest that she didn't need protection, but she paused. It would be wise to have protection. Grace was certainly a better bodyguard than Jane: she was a highly trained agent with a lot of experience capturing suspects. And unlike Jane, she was never annoying.

"Well…" said Lisbon hesitantly, "it might be very cramped quarters for both of us."

"I don't mind," said Grace.

"But how will you explain it to Wayne?"

"I'll think of something. How about I tell him that Jane got a phone call from Red John saying he plans to kill you? It would explain Jane's disappearance-he has to catch Red John before he gets to you. We decided the best thing was for me to protect you."

"Wayne won't let you. He'll insist on doing it himself. I can just see Wayne and Kimball pacing up and down the hallway outside my door."

"But they can't share a room with you, can they?" Grace said with an amused smile.

Lisbon's cheeks reddened at the thought of how she'd wanted Jane to share that room. Sharp-eyed Grace didn't fail fo notice, and she immediately guessed the reason.

"I know it's none of my business, but I have to ask: are you and Jane involved?"

"Grace, he and I have been partners for a decade now. You usually know someone pretty well after all that time. There's a lot more I don't know about Jane than what I do know. He told me once that he only told me about one third of what he does. It depends on what you mean by "involved." We're not in a romantic relationship…yet," she added, not looking at Grace. "It's hard for me to talk about this. Last week we fought about how to procede with the investigation: the usual he-insults-me-then-leaves. Then when he came back to apologize, I forgave him like an idiot and the next thing you know we're lying on my office couch together. Fully clothed," Lisbon added so there would be no doubt on that score. "We slept together on the couch and I had a lot of trouble keeping it from Cho. He knew I'd been in my office all night. He probably guessed that Jane was there.

"Anyway: Remember that ruse we came up with to fool Red John? When Jane pretended to shoot me? He said, "Love you, Teresa. Good luck" before shooting. Later I asked him if he meant what he said, and he said he'd been keyed up and didn't remember saying anything. I didn't believe him, but I let it go. Last week he apologized to me for lying to me so much. He said that was the worst lie he ever told me-that he remembered and meant every word. You could have knocked me over with a feather. I completely lost my self-control. Grace, I have an extremely tenuous hold on my position as the head agent on this team. I'm way too personally involved with everyone. I tried to keep a professional distance for all these years, but it's just not possible anymore. You're my friend. Wayne and Kimball are my family. And Jane is…I don't know what Jane is."

This was the longest speech Grace had ever heard from Lisbon. This was light years away from the time she chastised Grace for discussing personal things at work, calling it "unprofessional." Jane had opened up something in Lisbon that had been tightly closed for years. The reticence that had shielded her from being hurt seemed to have evaporated, exposing the soul of a lonely, proud and tightly wound woman. Grace was profoundly moved.

"He's the only one that you never refer to by his first name."

"I'm afraid to get too close to him. He's hurt me so many times. He's not going to change. I have to go back to being his boss."

"No offense, but you never were his boss."

Lisbon was silent. She was pale again, sadness showing in every line of her face.

"You look like you need a rest," said Grace. "I'll take you back to the hotel. And I'm staying. There are two beds, right?"

"There's a single folding bed in the closet."

"OK, let's go. We can do this. We can control the flow of information to the guys. Let me handle it. I'll tell them that you really need a personal day but I couldn't keep you from going to work. It's going to be OK. You'll see."

Lisbon tried to manage a smile, and the two women left the building together.


End file.
